


Spivvins and the Rabbit

by RoseAndPsyche



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Bullies, Devon - Freeform, Gen, Life at the Experiment House, The Gang - Freeform, WWII, Wartime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-09-03 17:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8722780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseAndPsyche/pseuds/RoseAndPsyche
Summary: Many people have written about Spivvins...even more have written about The Rabbit, yet very few know of the little documented tale of Spivvins and the Rabbit. This is the story of how Eustace does something Rather Glorious, and lives to tell about It.





	1. Spivvins Tells a Secret

Spivvins Tells a Secret

* * *

.Autumn Term, 1941.

_"Pole!" he said, "Is that fair? Have I been doing anything of the sort this term? Didn't I stand up to Carter about the rabbit? And didn't I keep the secret about Spivvins—under torture too? And didn't I-"_

~ C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair

* * *

There are certain schools that make you _want_ to catch the plague…cholera, malaria, yellow fever…anything to postpone arrival one day. Eustace Scrubb was known to hang around outside the Radcliffe Infirmary in hopes that some fumes from the sick ward would settle on him and infect him with mumps. Eleanor Blakiston held sick-parties in hopes that _somebody_ was secretly infected with the African sleeping sickness and would pass it on. Somehow, it never worked and the Experiment House got its students on time, every term.

The only student who ever managed to catch the plague was Cuthbert Isambard Spivvens (who beat out Eustace Clarence Scrubb for the strangest name in the annals of the school); despite missing large portions of the term on account of being stricken with things like chicken pox, measles and influenza, he never seemed to be behind. The truth was, Spivvens was a genius. Scrubb, who wasn't a genius, was inclined to believe that Spivvens was the only decent chap at school. Spivs didn't notice things…he shuffled through life admiring insects and muttering Latin verbs under his breath. To Scrubb, who had once collected insects himself, it meant something. Spivvens actually _knew_ about them, while Scrubb, despite all his time preserving things in formaldehyde, didn't.

In fact, Spivvens was so odd and so harmless that even They left him alone. They were Them…the school Gang…and They were always on the hunt for someone they could torture. Scrubb knew very well that They could skewer Spivvens on a pin and mount him on a specimen card if They wanted.

"Look here, Pole," Scrubb said one morning, overtaking a skinny, long-legged girl in the corridor between Morning Meditations and Chinese literature class. "Look here, we've got to do something about Spivs."

Jill Pole turned to look at him. She carried her chin out in front of her like a small battering ram. You had to when They were around. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" Scrubb trailed off. "What if They take a set against him? What on earth could he do?"

Pole stared at him, as well she might. "Why would _you_ care?"

It was true…up until this term, Srubb had been one of the worst hangers-on and floor-sweepers They had. He was their errand boy, their spy. Nobody trusted Scrubb…especially not when he began to be decent this term. Everyone who wasn't one of Them, suspected a Plot.

"I don't know what you're playing at, Scrubb," Pole said. "And I don't care. Just leave us alone…and that includes Spivs."

"Here, I _say!_ " Scrubb began angrily, but Pole had already turned in at the door and was gone.

Scrubb was left with the helpless feeling of one who has had his good intentions pushed back at him unopened. After the first flare of anger, he didn't blame Pole. It wasn't her fault. He _had_ been something of a rotter last term and he couldn't expect her to believe that he had transformed overnight. In fact, he had. It had happened during the holidays when he went on an Adventure with his cousins, the Pevensies, that was so strange and extraordinary you wouldn't believe me if I told you. All I mean to say is, Eustace Clarence Scrubb had Changed. He was not quite so fine a boy as he thought he was, but he was rather better than he ever had been before.

Scrubb was wandering past the cricket ground when he saw Spivvens. They were both too small to even be considered for the Eleven, but all the younger boys liked to watch the games. Alfred Carter was the captain of the team and by far the biggest and beefiest of the boys at school; he was the one who chose the players…and if anyone asked, he was the leader of Them; Adela Pennyfather might have disagreed, but she was the only one.

"Hullo, Scrubb." Spivvins goggled at him. Spivvens always goggled; the effect of his eyes seeming ready to burst out of his small head was further magnified by his spectacles.

"Hullo, Spivs," Scrubb said dismally.

"I saw a bird…you won't believe this, but I'm dead sure it's an Alpine Swift," Spivvins never noticed if people were dismal or not. He was never dismal and that was enough for him.

"What?"

"They aren't supposed to migrate this far north," Spivvins continued, not hearing him. "But I'm dead sure it's an Alpine Swift."

"It must be a Common Swift."

"This one has a white breast; Common Swifts are grey. It's built its nest in the eves of the Gym; come see it." Spivvins started off with the deliberate certainty that Scrubb was following.

Scrubb trailed along behind, his hands deep in his pockets. His sole consolation was being able to write to his cousins…the ones he'd gone Adventuring with during the summer hols. Lucy could always be counted on to write back and sometimes even Edmund broke his silence and sent him a note. His last one had been encouraging and depressing all at the same time:

_"Don't expect them to see you've changed overnight. I know when you've Changed you want to share it with people; most specifically, you want an Audience. However, you're not Being Different to impress or gratify Them, or Yourself…even if nobody ever Notices that you've Changed, it will still have been well worth doing."_

Lucy could be counted on being uplifting and he read her letter a bit later:

_"It's going to be awfully different now, Eustace, and I'm afraid you're going to be lonely…but you won't be nearly as lonely as you were when you were like Them. Remember all our friends in the Other Place, Caspian, Reepicheep, Drinian and the rest;_ they _knew your worth and you knew theirs. Those are the opinions that matter."_

"There it is," Spivvins was pointing at the eves of the Gym where a lump of dried grass seemed to be stuck to a shadow on the wall. "That's the nest. I wonder why they are here? It fearfully late in the year to be building nests. I expect it's because of the war. Bombs were going off and tanks rumbling through and the bird said to his wife, 'We ought to fly away to England. I hear it's green and tranquil there.' And she said, 'what a long flight it will be, going all that way, with no friends to keep us and only strangers when we arrive.' And he replied, 'it will be worth it in the end, my dear.' I suspect that's exactly what happened."

"If they had any brains, they wouldn't have chosen the Moor…they would have settled somewhere with trees."

"I hear the Coast is all barbed wire, land mines and 'off limit' signs," Spivvin's said with a rare spark of practicality. "I expect they passed it by for here."

Spivvins turned to goggle earnestly at Scrubb and Scrubb stared back.

"Do you think birds can talk, Spivs?" Scrubb asked suddenly.

Spivvins blushed hotly, "They talk more sense than most people do, I think. They're rather wonderful, really."

Scrubb agreed and hoped for Spivvin's sake that they really were Alpine Swifts and that they really had decided to leave war-torn Europe and come all the way to England because it was a green and pleasant land.

It was because of the War that Scrubb had changed. If it hadn't been for rationing, Lucy and Edmund would never have come to stay over the holidays while their parents went to America; rations for one person didn't go very far, but something could be done if rations were combined. It was because of some sort of cutting-edge medical break-through that Doctor Pevensie had gone Stateside and of course Mrs Pevensie went, and Susan, to keep them organized. Peter was in the RAF and the only place left for Lucy and Edmund to come to was the Scrubb's pile, to live with their awful Uncle Harold and horrible Aunt Alberta and of course their cousin, Eustace.

_"It was tough luck,"_ Edmund had said. _"But it turned out all right, thank goodness."_

"Scrubb? Can you keep a secret?"

Scrubb started, realizing that he had fallen into a reverie again. "Yes of course, old chap; what is it?"

"Come see."

Scrubb came. There was a damp sort of walkway behind the gym with shrubbery on one side and the brick wall of the gym on the other. _They_ didn't like it because it was damp and dark and had spiders' webs. Consequently, everyone else used it as a sort of safe-haven from Them. Spivvens led the way some distance down it before pulling a large wicker hamper out from under the laurels.

"I say, what's that?" Scubb exclaimed with a feeling of premonition. Something was moving inside of it, something small, fluffy, with drop-ears and white toes and a nose that was wiggling frantically. It was a Rabbit.

"You know the man who owns the land adjoining the cricket field?" Spivvins asked, lifting the Rabbit out of the hamper. "He raises them for the war effort. He let me have this one because he says it's too small and old for really good eating."

"Great Scott!" Scrubb said with feeling.

"You won't tell?"

"Of _course_ not. I'm not a perfect beast."

"I didn't think you were…you know…I might be mistaken…you see; I've forgotten what you were like before…but aren't you rather _different_? I don't remember you being around much last term and now, you know, old chap, you are really _quite_ good at birds."

For Spivvins, that was high praise.

"Thanks awfully, old man," Scrubb found that there was a peculiarly sized lump in his throat. Spivvins never noticed anything that didn't have a spider at the center of it…but, Spivvins had noticed that he had changed. And Spivvins' opinion _mattered._ Perhaps there was hope after all.

"Look here," Scrubb pronounced, "It would be rather awful if They found it. How do you feed it?"

"Bits and bobs from the garden," Spivvins said uncomfortably. "I say, it's a small Rabbit, but it does eat an awful lot."

Like many schools around the country, the second cricket field had been plowed under to plant a Victory garden. Only Victory wasn't looked well upon by the Experiment House; everyone knew that the Head had written a letter to Hitler at the beginning of the war encouraging him to consider the lot of the Common Man. Nothing had come of it; Hitler had invaded Poland anyway, grinding the Common Man under his tank treads on the way. Winston Churchill, the present Prime Minister of England, seemed to be under the impression that the Common Man ought to take up arms and throw Hitler out, but the Head still maintained that a peaceful end could be negotiated. She had begun writing letters to Franklin Delano Roosevelt, urging him to negotiate between the two sides. That idea of hers had been brutally slaughtered when America entered the war.

By then, there were no countries left to write to. They were all involved somehow or other and the Head was forced to accept that they were going to slug it out. At the Experiment House, the word 'Victory', however, was verboten. Nobody was allowed to mention Winston Churchill, either. Not that anyone would; Adela Pennyfather's brother was a Conscientious Objector doing manual labor in Yorkshire. The very idea of Adela Pennyfather's glossy older brother doing manual labor was enough to brighten even Scrubb's most doleful days.

"Look here-" Scrubb began again, but was cut off short by the sound of footsteps on the gravel. He and Spivvins looked around like suspected burglars; Spivvins appeared to be holding the loot, Scrubb made a surprisingly good representation of a thug planning a get-away.

"We'll sell our lives dearly," Scrubb whispered half to himself, clenching his hands.

But it was only Jill Pole, all knees, elbows and short brown hair. She jumped when she saw them, mouth open. Scrubb recovered himself first. "Gosh, but you gave us a turn."

"What are you doing hiding in the shrubbery?" Pole asked accusingly. They had given her quite a scare and her voice was shrill. Her stubborn chin jutted a little further.

"Nothing to bother _you,_ I should think," Scrubb said unkindly, then caught himself. In quite another voice, he added: "Sorry if we startled you."

"Is that a Rabbit?" Pole asked, forgetting all at once that she _had_ been startled. "Where did it come from?"

Spivvins told the story once more, and before he finished, he found that Pole was holding the Rabbit. He shook his head; to him, girls were more mysterious than birds and much more unpredictable.

"We mustn't breathe a word of it to anyone," Scrubb said warningly. "If the Head found out, there would be a most frightful row…and I wouldn't really like to know what They would do if They discovered it. You _will_ keep it a secret?"

"Teach your grandmother," Pole replied stiffly. She wanted to crush Scrubb in one word, but couldn't think of one. "See that _you_ don't let it slip to Carter, yourself."

"Well I like _that_! What absolute _rot!_ " Scrubb cried. "Do I _look_ like I'm about to rush off and gas to Carter?"

Pole stamped her foot, "You _needn't_ make such an _appalling fuss_ about it, at _any_ rate!"

"Look here," Spivvins said quickly, taking back the Rabbit. "Look here, let's not all row. The Swifts are nesting just around the corner and we mustn't disturb them…and I think…I really do think they're Alpine Swifts."

* * *

To Be Continued...


	2. A Look at the Experiment House

A Look at the Experiment House

* * *

_After that, the Head's friends saw that the Head was no use as a Head, so they got her made an Inspector to interfere with other Heads. And when they found she wasn't much good even at that, they got her into Parliament where she lived happily ever after._

~ C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair

* * *

Contrary to Spivvins' good advice, Pole and Scrubb continued to argue after they came out of the shrubbery and started towards the cricket ground. It wasn't until Carter came up suddenly behind them and knocked their heads together that they stopped.

"Little brats," Carter said on the side to Adela Pennyfather. "Absolutely no discipline. The masters are all sops."

"I know," Adela said, her voice strangely soft. "We have a terrific job on our hands trying to keep them all in line."

"I could write a sonnet to your eyes," Carter commented, going off on a tangent; that was the last thing Spivvins, Scrub and Pole heard from them. The team had finished practicing and were packing up their bats, looking very grand and grown-up in white flannels, and all together, the upperclassmen sauntered off. They owned the place.

"There's only one good thing about Carter," Scrubb said, rubbing the side of his head as he watched them go.

"You can come up with something, can you?" Pole asked dryly.

"He's in sixth form. He'll pass out of the school at the end of this term and we'll be rid of him."

"I wonder if he'll become a Conscientious Objector, too and do hard manual labor in Yorkshire?" Pole asked, looking after the white clad players. "I wonder if Adela Pennyfather will still be sweet on him if he does?"

"Him?" Scrubb asked, following her gaze. "I bet he'll enlist. RAF, too. A pair of shiny wings will look spiffing on that swelled up chest of his."

Pole snorted and looked at Scrubb again. She didn't like Scrubb…he was short and flabby and had pale hair and pale skin reminiscent of something that had been turned up by a spade. He needed sun, she decided. He had spent too much time lurking in the shade. But as much as she didn't like him, something had changed in the last ten minutes. Scrubb knew about the Rabbit. That meant something.

"I say, Scrubb?" Pole began, looking furtively at Spivvins as he goggled at a butterfly that had just landed in the sun and was slowly airing its wings. "We can't leave it to him, you know."

"What do you mean?" Scrubb asked, startled at the sudden lack of hostility in her voice.

"It's the Rabbit…and Spivvins…he can't just feed it vegetables for the rest of its life. I don't think that many vegetables are good for Rabbits."

"I would think Spivs would know," Scrubb, shoved his hands in his pockets. "He knows about everything, after all. I say, did you know that spiders' silk tensile strength is stronger than steel? He told me so this morning."

"Spivs has lots of imagination, but no practicality," Pole continued earnestly. "It's up to us to keep Them from Finding Out about the Rabbit…and the Head. I think something terrible would happen if she knew he was stealing vegetables from the garden. He doesn't know anything about subterfuge; he'll be caught."

If it had been peacetime, perhaps it wouldn't have mattered, but stealing food now-a-days was a criminal offense. It was the reason why the school ration books were locked up in the Head's desk. There just wasn't enough food to go around, which was why the Gang made the younger students give up their rations when the masters weren't looking.

"What  _do_  you feed a Rabbit?" Scrubb asked.

"I don't know," Pole said. "But I think we ought to find out."

"Do you suppose there would be anything in the kitchen that would be at all fit for Rabbits?" Scrubb was beginning to feel adventurous.

"If there is, we daren't be caught looking."

~o*o~

The Experiment House resided in Devon, and the dull, grey-stone buildings reminded some of the more imaginative school inmates of Dartmoor Prison twenty miles away. There was nothing to hope for but Moor and more Moor. The only visitors to break the monotony were a small herd of shaggy ponies that moved in regular large loops that brought them by the school gates every month or so.

Nearly a third of the ghost-like pupils at the Experiment House were day-students, cycling in from nowhere for classes. The other two-thirds were from obscure parts of the Empire. The chief attraction of the Experiment House for most parents was its remoteness. Schools had been closing all over the south of England because of the Blitz and because of the influx of American troops being stationed in Kent and Sussex. Even if the Germans took it into their heads to invade, the Experiment House was the last place they would stop in for Tea…if they could even find it.

It meant that the Head could run the school just the way she liked and still expect a surplus of students. Her victims' parents were just glad that there  _was_  a place to send their children that was out of the way. And the Head wasn't so awful…she was very kind in her way, always ready with a cup of tea if an offender was sent up to her study. It was her belief that children ought to be allowed to bring themselves up that was the trouble; she believed the natural forces among them would create stronger and wiser adults.

In the end, she created something reminiscent of Boston during Prohibition. The masters turned a Glassy Eye and the stronger, smarter students ruled the school while the smaller ones, those that could be paid off at any-rate, playing the part of their underlings. The rest, who were too small, too tired, or too principled to be of any use, managed by keeping their heads down and giving up part of their rations.

There had been a Time, remembered fondly by the Downtrodden, of a Student that had rallied the Huddled Masses and waged War on the Gang. It was a glorious, but undocumented, moment in the School's history. Those that remembered it whispered tales of battles in the girls' dormitory at midnight, of Alfred Carter getting doused with water when someone emptied a bathroom jug out of an upstairs window, of Adela Pennyfather screaming when someone dyed her favorite shirt blue.

It had ended, however, tragically. The Student (whose name could not be mentioned) was expelled partway through the term for Disrupting the Peace. It was said afterwards that he enlisted in the RAF underage and was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for Valor in the Battle for Britain (being Shot Down came up in conversation), but this was heresy and nobody was quite certain if they believed it.

Scrubb and Pole had both come to the school the term after the Great Uprising and had not met the Student. Scrubb himself, had learnt to despise him, as he had despised everyone he was told to despise by Them; but this term, he was beginning to think seriously about the Student and the Great Uprising. There was something exhausting about Fear and now that Scrubb had officially changed sides, there was an ever-present Fear of being Dealt With by Them. Why should he fear Them, after all? What could they do?

Despite all his good intentions, he was forced to admit that there was a great deal They could do. They were stronger than he, after all. In this place, Brute Strength was the law, as was made manifest at supper that night.

The Dining Hall, in another life, had been a barn, and the smell of sheep sometimes crept out of the woodwork into the general atmosphere of cold chops congealing on plates, and overdone potatoes and greens. Scrubb, through no fault of his own, ended up seated opposite Alfred Carter and one of the Horrible Garret twins (D. Garret, to be exact; some speculated that the 'D' stood for 'devil'). Scrubb was just raising his fork when Alfred Carter leaned across the table, skewered his chop and receded again to his place like some giant chameleon with a sticky tongue.

"Here, I  _say_!" Scrubb began with a hot flare of anger, then stopped when Carter fixed him with an Eye. It was an unspoken threat and Scrubb slumped; Carter, was eight inches taller and at least three stone heavier and had a fist on him like a steam-hammer. The Student (whose name could not be mentioned), who had started the Great Uprising, had been, by all reports, a tall and fit character. Scrubb wasn't…and promptly decided that discretion was the better part of valor. He scoffed his potatoes before D. Garret formed designs on them, and fled.

* * *

To Be Continued...


	3. The Odd Jobs Man Decides

The Odd Jobs Man Decides

* * *

_And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience._

~ C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair

* * *

It was hunger that woke Scrubb that nightâ€¦or it might have been the moonlight slanting through the window, because moonlight was an anomaly in Devon. The sun and the moon were such rare visitors to that part of the world that people would line the roads and cheer when they passed by. Generally, Dartmoor had a thunderous brow and looked overcast as if it were thinking about Something Else. At the Experiment House, it rained.

Scrubb promptly rolled away from the moonlight and attempted to go back to sleep. He shared the room with two other boys, one of them Spivvins, who snored.

"For heaven's sake, shut up, will you?" Scrubb whispered urgently. Spivvins snored on. Scrubb liked Spivvin's very well when he could observe him by the light of day, but at night, snoring into the silence and destroying an honest chap's rest was a bit thick. Scrubb was momentarily transformed into what-he-had-been-before-he-Changed as he considered what would be the most satisfying; emptying the bathroom jug into Spivvin's open mouth, or poking the offender's feet with a knitting needle purloined from the Matron.

And then, quite suddenly, Scrubb remembered the Rabbit.

After only a short encounter with the Other Place (and forgive me if I don't go into detail about the Place where he had gone on an Adventure with his cousins, as you would never believe me if I did), Scrubb's appreciation for Animals had changed in a dramatic manner. It was true that animals here were not _quite_ the same as animals There, but he still had a deep love for them and a wish to protect them all. In his mind, the Rabbit needed his help and pouring a bedroom jug full of water over Spivvins's head wasn't going to help anyone. Not even the snore.

And that was why a robed and slippered Scrubb was creeping down the back stairs a few minutes later. He had promised himself after the encounter with Pole that he would slip down to the kitchen to see if there _was_ anything that Rabbits can eat. Scrubb wasn't a farm boy; as far as he was concerned Rabbits lived off bread and jam. His stomach growled. He could use some bread and jam.

The collision occurred in the door of the Dining Hall and despite the moonlight, Scrubb hadn't seen it coming. With a stifled yell, he fell in a heap, jumbled up with someone who had Elbowsâ€¦and a Chinâ€¦and _hang it all_ , Teeth!

"Of all the low down, rottenâ€¦!" Scrubb's hand stung. "Don't _bite!_ Get up and fight like a man, you coward!"

"Is that you Scrubb?" a frightened voice wavered out of the shadows.

"I'll _say_ it's me and that was _my_ hand! No thanks to you that it isn't bleeding!"

"I'm most awfully sorry," Pole sat up and at the sight of her drawn, frightened face, all of Scrubb's anger melted away like quicksilver.

"No, it's my fault, really," he said gruffly.

"I suppose we're both down here for the same reason?"

"The Rabbit?"

Pole nodded.

Scrubb thought for a moment, there in the moonlight, "Nothing for it, then," he said, "Shall we proceed together?"

Pole nodded again, her eyes wide. There thing they meant to do was so dastardly, so heinous she couldn't even imagine what would happen if the Head found out. Stealing food during Wartime, Skulking at Night and forming Plans against Them. It couldn't get any worse.

"What if we're caught?" she murmured, not because she was afraid, but because she wanted to know what Scrubb would do.

"No matter what, we can't breathe a word about Spivvinsâ€¦even," he paused, "even if it comes to torture."

Pole shuddered. She still didn't trust Scrubbâ€¦but if he was willing to keep his word, even under torture, she at least had to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The door to the larder wasn't locked, even though they half expected it to be. The knob squeaked with springs, the hinges protested softly in their rust, and a moment later, the door swung open, letting out a sheet of moonlight. Scrubb entered first; Pole was close behind him.

"Do you suppose a Rabbit would eat bread?" Pole whispered.

"I-"

But Scrubb never finished his sentence, because just at that moment, the unspeakable happened. A handâ€¦far larger than Carter'sâ€¦descended onto his shoulder; he struggled, would have bolted for the doorâ€¦but the hand was too strong, and from Pole's small protesting noises beside him, she had been caught, too.

"What's all this, then?"

The voice that spoke was large, but not loud, and out of the corner of Scrubb's eye, he saw a large, monstrous shadow and a nose that might have been barrowed off the Neanderthal in his Natural History book. There was hope then. This wasn't one of the masters, or even the Headâ€¦this was the Odd Jobs Man.

The Odd Jobs Man was one of those characters that ought to be frightening, but isn't. He was about the same height as Big Ben and had shoulders broader than London Bridge, but he was so gentle and soft-spoken that nobody ever paid him much mind. He was about forty and walked with a limpâ€¦something to do with the Great War, Trenches and a German Potato Masher.

He'd seen war, and consequently, he wasn't entirely meek and mild-mannered; the Gang avoided him, because after grappling him once, they never tried again. Nobody ever breathed a word of What Had Happened, but there were rumors that one of the Garret twins had been held aloft before being dumped unceremoniously into the School Pond. The Head had not been amusedâ€¦she had even considered sending the Odd Jobs Man away until she had discovered that there was no one else in the area to take the position.

Either way, there was hope, because, as Scrubb saw it, the Odd Jobs Man was on neither side, and might listen to reason.

"What's all this, then?" the Odd Jobs Man repeated, shaking the two children. No doubt, he thought he was being gentle, but they felt like decoys in the mouth of a Retriever.

Scrubb shot Pole a look. There was nothing for it, "We'll have to tell him."

"I should think so," the Odd Jobs Man stated.

Pole looked momentarily rebellious, then wilted. The Odd Jobs Man set them both down on packing crates full of potatoes like dolls at a tea party, and gave them a look. He wasn't like the Head, he was fair.

"I'll be Judge and Jury and Prosecution," he said slowly, drawing out his words. "You'll be the Defense. If the Jury finds you guilty, but the Judge rules the crime not worth punishing, that rabble upstairs need never know. Now thenâ€¦tell it slowly."

Scrubb looked at Pole, and in the end, Pole told the story. She didn't name Spivvinsâ€¦there was no needâ€¦she just called him one of the students. She told about the Rabbit in full, how it had been legally given to Spivvins and that they could prove it by asking the Man Next Door, and how she and Scrubb had come down to see if there was anything to feed it in the kitchens.

"Now, of course, we won't take anything," she said quickly.

"I should think not," the Odd Jobs Man said. "Now then, do the prisoners plead guilty, or not guilty of taking food from the pantry?"

"Not guilty," Pole and Scrubb said together.

The Odd Jobs Man reached a long arm over and prodded in the pockets of their dressing gowns, "Aye," he said. "In the face of insubstantial evidence, the Jury finds the prisoners not guilty."

"Can we go, then?" Scrubb asked eagerly.

"Nay," the Odd Jobs Man shook his head, "Bide here a while and tell me about this Rabbit. What did you mean to feed it?"

"Do Rabbits eat bread?" Pole burst out.

A slow smile spread across the face of the Odd Jobs Man and he chuckled. "Not a good, honest English rabbit, Miss."

"Actually, I think it might be Dutchâ€¦" Pole trailed off. "Spivs said so."

She froze, wishing she hadn't mentioned Spivvins. The least said, soonest mended.

"The Dutch are on the Right Side," Scrubb felt compelled to mention, and by the 'Right Side', he meant the right side of the War.

"A rabbit is a rabbit," the Odd Jobs Man said after a moment of contemplation. "I dare say they all eat the same." Slowly he stood, his joints cracking and creaking as he reached his full height. "Now then, you two nip back to bed; I'll take care of this."

"You won't tell?" Pole asked hesitantly.

"And why should I?" the Odd Jobs Man inquired. "If a boy wants to keep a Rabbit in this blighted, hopeless place, why should he not? There is nothing much else worth doing. But, I'll tell you this; I'll bicycle into town tomorrow and see if I can't get five pounds of Rabbit feed. Nobody will find it if we keep it in the gardening shed."

"Oh, I _say_ ," Scrubb exclaimed, then instantly lowered his voice. "You _are_ a sport! Pole and I can scrounge up the money, I'm sure. I've got a sovereign."

Pole looked at him in surprise, "Lucky beast."

The Odd Jobs Man laughed and shook his head. "You two go back upstairs, and be in bed. Sharpish."

* * *

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently read Surprised by Joy, and I was struck by C. S. Lewis' comment about the Idea of Autumn (which he never really explains…and perhaps doesn't need an explanation).  
> Strangely Autumn…and the foreknowledge of a long Winter, and finally of Spring…fills me with a longing that even the coming of Spring never fulfills (and somehow it doesn't need to). I think this is why Autumn is my favorite season, because it represents Giving Up Everything no matter what the Cost, in the certain Faith that Life is coming again.  
> We live through Winter because we must, and because if we had Spring all the time, we wouldn't know how beautiful it was...honestly, snowdrops are at their most lovely when they've just poked through a bit of melting ice to bloom.  
> ~Psyche


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